


something wrong

by kintsukimi



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Author Projecting onto Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Awkwardness, Canon-Typical The Beholding Content (The Magnus Archives), Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Jon-centric, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist is Bad at Feelings, Jonathan Thems, Medication, Neurodivergent Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Other, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sensory Overload, Sick Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sickfic, Swearing, Texting, They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood, WAIT this is late but i have an idea for a new tag, Withdrawal, all tws in notes, but jon doesnt realize it at first, i hate how long jons character tag is, nice, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kintsukimi/pseuds/kintsukimi
Summary: "Why were they only now experiencing these effects? Why today? The Archivist had read countless statements before, and sure, it was common for them to deal with strange feelings because of them, but this was different somehow. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong, in their mind, in their body, in their very soul."Or, Jon deals with discontinuation syndrome on their first day off their meds and Martin, being Martin, decides to help.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Past Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	something wrong

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this while i was going through the same shit. this is a vent fic. its just me projecting onto jon. sometimes u just need to make ur kin suffer and then have ur other kin comfort them
> 
> tw: sickness (specifically discontinuation syndrome), dysphoria (not gender-related), sensory overload, lots of description of physical + emotional discomfort, mentions of vomiting + suicidal thoughts, talk about medication (antidepressants)

"Statement ends," the Archivist sighed wearily. All at once, it was hitting them again. Reading for such a long time had left them thoroughly exhausted. The words on the paper sitting in front of them all seemed to jumble together, their vision fuzzy and their head swimming. They let it fall into their hands and they remained there in silence for who knows how long.

Jon felt sick. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Everything was just too overwhelming. The words they had just read turned over and over in their head, leaving them with a dizzying, disgusted feeling that made their stomach churn. 

They wanted to throw up, to purge this awful feeling from their insides, but they knew they couldn't. They weren't _actually_ sick--not in the usual way, at least. No, this felt more like their body and mind were playing tricks on them.

Why were they only now experiencing these effects? Why today? The Archivist had read countless statements before, and sure, it was common for them to deal with strange feelings because of them, but this was different somehow. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong, in their mind, in their body, in their very soul.

All they wanted to do right now was sleep. Get away from themself. Not think about anything, not feel anything.

They wanted to die.

It was only then that they realized they were still recording, and that they still needed to provide their post-statement commentary. 

"Shit," they hissed through their teeth. They lazily rubbed their eyes, bumping away their glasses. "Uh, sorry about that, just, ah... spaced out for a bit. Where was I...?"

Jon glanced back down at the papers, which caused them to be hit with another wave of dizziness. They clutched at their head again, squeezing their eyes shut.

After another moment of silent agony, they let out a loud groan. "You know what? Screw this. I can't do this right now." They pressed stop on the tape recorder and promptly laid their woozy head on the desk.

As they lay in this feverish stupor, they didn't even realize that somehow had opened the door and was now calling their name. It took a moment for them to register the feeling of a gentle hand shaking their shoulder.

"Jon, are you alright?" Martin. Martin was in the room. "You're not overworking yourself, are you?" His voice was filled with concern.

Vague realization of the situation began to seep into Jon's head. Martin... Martin had caught them passed out on their desk. Oh no. Oh goodness, this was embarrassing.

"I..." they began, the very act of speaking sending dull pain to their head. "I'm fine, I just... I'm tired... I'm very, very...."

Emotion suddenly swelled inside of them. Their eyes burned with shame and anguish. God, everything felt awful.

"Jon?" Softer this time. "Do you need to take a break?"

"No. No, I'm fine," they repeated stubbornly, mostly out of habit. Their entire being begged them to cave in, to sink into the soothing emptiness of sleep, but they just couldn't. They couldn't admit there was something wrong with them.

As it turned out, though, they wouldn't need to admit it. Just one quick turn toward the man's direction to give him a reassuring glance caused that same dizziness to come back full force. Their coworker's face blurred and the room spun around them.

Martin's hands instinctively shot out to steady them, though he stopped short before actually touching Jon. "You don't--Pardon me for saying this, but you don't _look_ fine."

Jon took a second to collect themself. Of course Martin could tell. Martin always had a way of knowing when they weren't doing well. There was no way they could bullshit their way out of this one. They didn't have enough fight in them at the moment anyway.

Succumbing to the despair filling their head, Jon slumped in their chair. After a long-suffering sigh, they groaned, "No. I'm not."

Martin flinched at the Archivist's sudden surrender. He let out a nervous chuckle. "Oh. Well... okay then. Do you... need anything?"

 _Do I need anything?_ Jon repeated in their head absently. _What do I need?_ They hardly even knew what was wrong with them. How could they possibly know what Martin could do to help it?

"I... Don't know," they lazily replied. They didn't want to think too much about it. Thinking made their head feel even worse.

A long pause. Their assistant then slowly turned to the door, telling Jon over his shoulder that he'd make them some tea.

"No," the Archivist blurted out. The thought of drinking any more of that stuff made them want to gag. "Just.... water, please." Maybe water would help. That's what healthy people do, right? They drink water.

"A-alright!" Martin responded, closing the door gently behind him.

"Blegh," Jon whispered to themself, the sound dripping from their tongue like poison. How they wished today could just end.

Martin returned soon with hushed but hurried steps, bringing a glass of water up to Jon's desk.

As they drank, Martin continued to stand awkwardly beside their chair. "Do you, uh... Do you think you'll be alright?" He fidgeted with his hands. "Is there anything else you need?"

After one more gulp, Jon shakily placed the glass on their desk and ran a hand through their tangled hair, trying to sort through their muddled thoughts. There were so many things they wanted to say, to ask, but they didn't know how. They didn't like seeming so vulnerable, especially in front of Martin.

But they felt an urge inside of them to let this out, to tell someone how they felt like their soul was being corroded, like there was something dreadful draining away their very essence, like they were going insane. And how they just wanted to die.

"What's happening to me?" was all they could manage to croak out. They weren't sure if it was supposed to be a question for Martin to answer or just one for them to agonize over themself.

Martin grew visibly uncomfortable (not to Jon, though, they were too unfocused to pay attention to his reactions). He knew how to simply bring Jon things they needed, but he didn't know how to actually figure out their problems. He was perceptive of others' needs, but he wasn't a doctor. He didn't know any more about how Jon felt than Jon themself.

"Well. Could you at least... tell me what it is you're feeling? It's-it's alright for you to talk about it, if you want." He wrung his hands.

The Archivist took a moment to think of how to describe their symptoms, though it made them sick just thinking about it. "I've just been... overwhelmed. By--by everything. My head feels so _off_ today, and I don't know what it is. I feel all dizzy, and nauseated, and every little thought and feeling has been intensified, and I just don't know what it is or what to do and it makes me wish I could just di-"

"Whoa, whoa, you might want to slow down there. Um…” Martin interrupted. He seemed to be thinking for a moment. “Jon, do you happen to take any antidepressants? Or any other kinds of medication like that?"

Jon mentally stumbled. "I... Yes. Well, I _did_ , I used to. I decided that I had been on it long enough and that it was only doing more harm than good now, and to be honest, I had become a bit curious about what I would be like if I wasn't taking it, you know, like, how much has it changed me? Am I even me anymore? Have I just been living out a li-"

"So you've _stopped_ taking it," Martin interrupted again, pointedly.

Jon blinked. "Yes. In fact, today is my first day off.. of... it." They slowly realized what they were saying. _Oh_.

Their coworker nodded. "Alright, yep. I know exactly what you're going through." He chuckled a bit, but then his face turned more serious. "I really hope this wasn't a sudden thing. Completely stopping your meds is very dangerous."

"Oh, no, no, I've been weaning myself off of it, don't worry, I talked to a professional and everything. And I've been feeling fine! Honestly. Half dose, quarter dose, I didn't feel any different than I normally do." Their brow furrowed. "So... why would I feel this badly now even though I've been preparing myself for it?"

Their assistant decided to take a seat in the spare chair. "Well, maybe the prescription you were taking had extra bad withdrawal symptoms. I mean, that's the case with my antidepressants."

 _Wait... him too?_ The air seemed to grow heavy, as though Martin had just revealed a big secret. He shifted a bit, sheepish but still willing to help.

"I tend to forget to take it sometimes. Ends up making me feel awful, just like how you described. Takes less than a day for me to feel like something's wrong. Venla-something. Though I think it also has another name."

"Venlafaxine. Also known as Effexor," Jon recited off the top of their head. "Yeah... that's what I take, coincidentally."

Martin adjusted his glasses. "Well. Now I know that it's probably going to be difficult once I eventually quit." He let out an awkward laugh, though he knew that joking around like this definitely wasn't any help to Jon.

He cleared his throat. "So. Usually all I can really do when I'm going through discontinuation syndrome is take my pill late and then give my brain a rest until the medicine kicks in. But, since that's not really an option for you right now..."

He made eye contact with Jon. "Well, you definitely at least can't keep working right now."

The Archivist spluttered. "Martin, I can't just--I can't take the day off." They gestured vaguely at the papers behind them. "I have all this work, and besides, I... I don't really even feel my symptoms as I'm reading a statement? It's just afterwards that it hits me again."

Martin narrowed his eyes. "Jon, I know you tend to get... absorbed in your work, but your sickness doesn't just... _go away_ while you're doing it."

"No, I'm serious. As strange as it sounds, reading statements is... practically my only escape from it all. Sure, I get wrapped up in someone else's suffering, but at least that's only temporary. For me, I mean," they added quickly, not wanting to sound like they were downplaying the statement givers' trauma. They knew Martin hated when they did that.

Martin seemed to be thinking to himself. Then he asked, a bit hesitantly, "What... does it feel like when you read a statement?"

 _What an odd question,_ Jon thought, unsure of how to answer.

"I'm just curious, is all. It's just that... I can definitely hear _some_ kind of change in you when I listen back to the recordings. Your voice completely shifts tone, and even though you sound like you aren't taking these accounts that seriously in your afterthoughts, you always seem to.. take on that role so... intensely. Like you become a completely different person."

The Archivist could feel their face heating up. It was a bit embarrassing to be analyzed like this by one of their coworkers, by _Martin_ of all people. For some reason, the thought of him listening so intently to their recordings, _their_ voice, flustered them a bit too much for their liking.

They coughed into their fist awkwardly. "Well, I mean, I guess you could say... I do. In a way." Their gaze was fixed on the floor. "I'm not exactly... me. When I'm reading aloud. I guess you could call it acting, but it doesn't exactly feel like that to me. I get to... see through their eyes, so to speak. I feel what they feel, so vividly, and 'Jon' just... slips away for the moment."

They didn't like that scrutinizing look Martin was giving them. They could feel that dull pain thrumming in their head again. "Just--just forget it. Leave me alone. Let me work. I'm not taking the day off. Besides, finally being off my meds today is something for me to _celebrate_." They whipped back to face their desk and immediately needed to grip the chair to steady themself.

Their assistant sighed. "I think I'll stay, just in case. Don't want you passing out again with no one around to help."

Honestly, the thought of Martin watching over them as they recorded made Jon... somewhat uncomfortable. It felt like a breach of privacy, in some way. But they knew they wouldn't be able to kick him out at this rate, so they gave up and pressed play on their tape recorder.

As they started reading, the awareness of their own illness faded away, just as they said it would. Jonathan Sims was no more. They now took on the role of the statement giver instead.

That moment of release didn't get to last long, however, because Martin gasped beside them and called them back to reality. "Oh my goodness... J-Jon?"

All at once, Jon was jolted back into their own body, falling back into that disoriented state. They pushed their glasses up to pinch the bridge of their nose as a new wave of nausea overcame them. "Ugh, god... What is it, Martin?"

The man seemed to need to take a moment to form a response. "I, uh..." He fumbled with his hands some more. "I guess I was right about my suspicions about... weird things happening to you." He laughed nervously.

"What do you mean?" Jon was careful to look at him slower this time.

Martin blinked incredulously, looking as though he was observing their eyes. "Your... the eye thing? Has no one pointed that out to you?"

The Archivist suddenly became very self-conscious. They knew they had strange eye-related habits. Twitching. Intense blinking. _Do I do more of that when I'm reading statements without realizing it? Because I'm too focused and tense?_ An image of them dramatically reading like a movie trailer narrator while they ticced like mad popped into their head and they felt a rush of humiliation. _Oh god, I must look stupid._ They should have never let Martin stay in here.

"I'm sorry, I-I don't realize that I'm doing it. It's just habit, I don't know how it started, it just happens sometimes-"

"Your eyes just... _glow_ sometimes?"

 _What_. "What."

"Your... your eyes, as you were reading. The moment you started reading their words, after you said 'Statement begins', your expression totally changed and your eyes... were glowing."

Jon's face flushed, completely unable to know what to make of this. _Is he trying to compliment me or something? Is this him trying to flirt?_ The sudden heat in their body from all this was making them feel feverish.

"I-I mean, like, _literally_ glowing. Like, bright green, it was like some sort of... superpower being activated." Blood colored his cheeks as well, as though he was embarrassed by his own ridiculous words.

 _Oh. That's what he meant._ But that didn't make anything better, because there was now a new layer of confusion to their thoughts.

"Jon, I know you hate this word, but that was some spooky shit."

The Archivist crumpled onto their desk in defeat. They were too tired for this nonsense. What the hell was he even talking about? Why wouldn't he just let them work? Was he _trying_ to make them feel even worse than they already did?

Some sort of awful emotion was bubbling up inside of them and threatening to spill. They couldn't handle _today_ anymore. Too many thoughts. Too many words. It was all too much. That familiar panic of overstimulation swelled in their stomach.

They hadn't realized how tense they were as they lay with their head in their folded arms, but Martin had. They were barely aware of him carefully coming closer, asking if they were okay and apologizing for bothering them, but his presence was there.

"Forget I even brought up the eye thing, that was rude of me, I shouldn't have interrupted you in the middle of your work. But, I mean, you shouldn't even be working right now anyways, you're clearly not doing well. I'll explain this to Elias, he'll be fine with you taking some time off to get better, it'll be fine. Let me help you."

The sudden pressure on their shoulder made Jon jump in their seat, practically _yelping_ at the contact. They shrunk away from his hand, their senses far too overwhelmed for this.

"Sorry! Sorry." The man backed away, clutching his own hand as if he had just burned them with it. "Shouldn't touch without permission. I know that. I'm sorry."

After calming themself down and taking a long, shuddering breath, Jon finally stood up from their chair. They refused to look at Martin as they reluctantly walked out with him. He seemed tense, as though he was ready to reach out and catch them at any moment.

"Why do you even care so much?" the Archivist asked without thinking, the edge in their voice whittled down by their exhaustion.

"Because I know what this feels like," Martin answered softly. "I know what you're going through because I've gone through it countless times myself. And I don't know about you, but..." He looked down.

It seemed to take all of Jon's energy to try to push him. "But... what?"

Their coworker glanced down at them, finally catching eye contact with them. "I sure don't like suffering through it all alone."

As much as Jon wanted to deny that they needed Martin with them, they had no way to argue. They were just too tired, that was all. It wasn't true, they just didn't have the energy to argue. That was all.

It wasn't because of the way he was looking at them.

They averted their gaze immediately. Because they didn't like it.

-

When they were finally back home in their bed, Jon couldn't actually sleep.

They wanted to, for sure. Their body begged for it, and they desperately wanted an escape from this dreadful day, but for some reason, they just couldn't get their mind to shut off.

All new thoughts were pouring into their head, just as terrifying as the stories they read for a living. What was the point of them being home if they were feeling just as bad _and_ not getting any work done?

 _I shouldn't be here right now. I don't deserve to be spending my day in my damn bed. I should be back at my desk. At least then I'd feel more productive, and I'd have a distraction from how I'm feeling. Why in the world did I let Martin,_ Martin _of all people, boss me around? Elias will be pissed, I just know it. God, I'm so pathetic for this. Why couldn't I just say no to Martin?_

Just as they started to delve into more self-deprecating thoughts, Jon heard their phone buzz against their bedside table.

They rolled to their side lazily and grabbed their glasses and phone.

Martin

hi jon! sorry to bother, just wanted to check in real quick to see how u were doing :] ur probably asleep atm lol, so just let me know as soon as u see this

Jon groaned, contemplating whether or not they should just pretend to be asleep now and respond later when they felt more like it.

They weren't too keen on returning to their relentlessly harsh thoughts, so they decided that they might as well distract themself from that by being harsh to someone else instead.

Me

Not much better than I was while at the Institute. I told you I shouldn't have taken the day off.

Martin

oh so u arent asleep lol

i just figured since thats all i feel like doing when i go a day w/o my meds lol

Me

Can you stop saying lol so much?

Martin

sorry. just trying to make light of the situation yknow

well im sorry u arent doing okay :[ 

what have you been doing? instead of sleeping

Me

Well, I have been trying to sleep, but that hasn't exactly been easy.

Martin

what do u think is keeping u from it?

Me

The urge to be getting something productive done.

Martin

welp. too bad. no work for u today mx

please just try to relax. for once. u deserve a break anyways

Me

Martin, I was doing just fine at work before you decided to intervene.

Martin

no, u werent. clearly

Jon glared at their phone screen in annoyance. _This is a waste of time._ Arguing with Martin like this just made their head hurt more.

They put their phone aside and groaned loudly into a pillow. It didn’t make them feel any better. Nothing could.

They waited for their phone to buzz again, daring Martin to continue the conversation. They didn't plan on replying until he said something again.

They lay there silently for longer than they thought they would. They stared at their phone on their bedside table, becoming increasingly impatient for some reason. Nothing.

Well, this wasn't much better than before. Sure, they weren't mentally tearing themself apart anymore, but now there was something else eating away at them. Was it just boredom? That would make sense, since it did seem that they didn't have much else to do except talk to Martin.

 _God, I must be doing_ really _badly if I'm desperate enough to actually want to talk with Martin._

Jon admitted defeat and picked their phone back up.

Me

Martin.

Thankfully ( _Thankfully?)_ , Martin responded fairly quickly.

Martin

yes?

Me

What do you want me to do?

Martin

im sorry?

Me

What should I be doing to feel better? What do you recommend? Besides sleep.

They felt silly asking this. Jon, asking Martin what sort of self care he “recommends”? Were they really this desperate?

The response took a little while. He was clearly thinking hard about his answer.

Martin

well, idk what u feel u need. what works for me might not work for u

like the sleeping thing

Nevermind. Jon groaned again.

 _What do I need?_ they found themself asking again. And once again, they didn't know what they needed. They just knew they were longing for _something._ Something they _could_ have to help them. But they just couldn't figure out what it was.

After another long, agonizing lull in the conversation, Martin spoke up again.

Martin

are u sure ur doing okay on ur own?

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Of course they were okay on their own. They always did things by themself. They always fought through things like this on their own. They had grown used to battling depressive episodes and anxiety attacks all by themself. This was just another one of those things. They could handle it. They didn't need their assistant to assist with something like this.

What could he even do for them? 

...Was he _offering_ something?

They decided to challenge him, to test the waters. Which was a strange thing for them to do. What was wrong with them today?

Me

What could you even do about this?

Another long pause before the next text. A bubble displaying “...” danced at the bottom of the screen. Jon suddenly had the thought that maybe he was just doing this to annoy them. Pretending to write a lengthy reply, only to say something useless, just to get on their nerves.

Martin

i could come over maybe?? for company

“What the fuck,” Jon muttered aloud.

Why. Why in the _world_ would they let Martin, who had no right or power in the first place to make them do anything, make them go home on a work day, and _then_ offer to bother them some more? _Outside_ of work? In their own home, when they've been told to relax? What kind of stupid, backwards plan was this supposed to be?

Me

Just don't let Tim find out about this.

-

After a few very incredulous messages from Martin, Jon was welcoming the man at their door. The whole situation was very strange, but then again, so was this entire damn day.

Martin awkwardly shuffled inside, the temporary confidence he had had before now long gone. His shoulder hunched, his hands twisting in and around each other, his gaze shifting. He seemed… smaller than usual. They both felt small.

 _What the hell are we doing,_ Jon wondered, dazed as the man walked past them into the house. They wanted to blame this bad decision on their sickness, but… something deep in their mind knew there was something more to this.

“So, uh…” Martin started, clearly not really planning on going anywhere with the sentence.

For a second, Jon almost asked him “What are you doing here?” out of instinct, before realizing just how inappropriate that question would be right now. This time, they were the one who _invited_ him in. Weird.

Jon slowly closed the door. What did they _want_ Martin here for? They weren’t sure where to go from here. Their eyes stayed fixed on the floor, as though in a trance, until it started to swim in front of them and they had to sit down. They stumbled over to the couch, rubbing their temples in an attempt to get rid of a headache that wasn’t really there.

“Still got that dizzy feeling?” Martin guessed. It at least felt nice to know there was someone who understood just what they were going through.

“Unfortunately,” Jon sighed, folding in on themself. They hid their face in their hands, as though they were crying. All the lights in the house were off, but it was still far too bright. They wanted to draw the curtains, but they didn’t have the strength to get back up. Besides, being in a room alone with Martin in the dark sounded… quite awkward.

Martin sat down next to them on the couch. “Is there… anything I can do? I’m… I’m here for you, you know.” Martin’s voice was softer than usual. 

Jon felt an odd tingling feeling. Probably from their sickness.

They felt bad for not answering, even though they genuinely had no answer. “I don’t know,” they said eventually. This was stupid. “Just… be here. ...I guess,” they tacked on the end just in case.

Martin chuckled lightly. “Jon, you don’t need to keep up the whole act.”

The Archivist lifted their head to glare at him. “What are you talking about?”

Their coworker rolled his eyes. “You know, the whole stubborn, closed-off, ‘I don’t need your help, Martin, I can handle myself’ thing. It’s a little too late for that now. I’m already here. I know how you’re feeling, I know how it sucks. It’s… It’s okay to ask for help, you know. I’m not going to judge you for being vulnerable every now and then.”

Jon screwed up their face, unsure how to respond. _He really had to go and tell it like it was, huh?_

Being vulnerable wasn't exactly Jon’s thing. They remembered back when they were dating Georgie, how embarrassing it was whenever Jon was emotional in front of her, or when the two tried to be intimate with each other. They just hated that feeling of smallness and exposure. It had always been so much easier just to turn away. Not let anyone look too closely.

Now, Martin was looking right into them. 

Jon shivered as they realized how close he was to them.

The man could tell that he was making them uncomfortable, so he scooted away a bit, but still watched them intently. “Sorry if that, ah… cut too deep. Just… want you to know you're, you know, like… safe with me.”

Jon sat for a bit, taking in Martin’s words, when they were hit with a thought. One they probably shouldn’t be asking out loud. “Would you have done the same for the others? Would you have cared so much if it had been Sasha, or Tim?”

Martin’s face reddened, and although Jon felt bad for putting him on the spot, it felt good to get back at him. “I… Well, of course. I don’t understand… why you’re even asking…” he mumbled.

The Archivist was feeling braver than usual today. “But it’s different for me, isn’t it? You’re always checking in on me and ‘accidentally’ running into me throughout the day. You always seem to find a chance to be around me. To get… _close_ to me. You wouldn’t be trying so hard if anyone else wasn’t feeling well.”

The man hid his face in his hands and laughed. “Well. I guess we’re both calling each other out today, huh?”

It wasn’t until then that Jon realized that they were blushing too. The heat in their face and the awkwardness of the conversation made them even dizzier. “How about we just… stop talking,” they suggested lightly. “I’m tired.”

Martin simply nodded, letting a comfortable silence wash over the two of them. Somehow, even though it wasn’t much different than what Jon was doing on their own, it felt better. Martin had been right. It was nice to not be alone.

A long time passed where they just sat together on that couch doing nothing, but Martin didn't seem to mind. He was awfully patient about the whole thing. He was so, so kind to them. It was more than they deserved.

Jon dared to take a look at him, and was suddenly overcome with an emotion they didn't quite understand. The tenderness and domesticity of the situation made their heart ache. When he looked back, the man’s face showed such a soft expression of fondness and care that they could hardly comprehend it.

But just then, out of the blue, the fog cleared. _He's beautiful. I love him._

Jon was stunned at their own mind’s slip-up. Normally, they were able to censor or filter out thoughts like that. But this time, it just came so naturally. It wasn't like whenever they forced themself to think that kind of thing about Georgie.

And now that the door had been opened, it all started to flood through.

Their chest seemed to swell with emotion, their stomach feeling sick in a different way. _He cares so much about me. He always wants the best for me. He looks at me with so much love in his eyes. He loves me, and I love him. His goddamn face is so pretty and I don't know what to-_

“J-Jon, are you alright? Why are you looking at me like that?” His cheeks were red again, and Jon adored that look now. _He's so cute when he's flustered,_ their mind helpfully supplied.

Another very un-Jon-like thought nestled its way into their head. And normally, they wouldn't have acted on it, as they restrained themself from doing a lot of this, but this was a special case.

 _I could blame it on the sickness. It doesn't have to mean anything,_ they reassured themself. _We can just forget about it afterward. “I just wasn't feeling myself, I just needed comfort from someone”. That's what I'll say if it comes to it._

“Could you… hold my hand?” The words sounded very unnatural coming from them. Had they ever asked for physical affection before? They couldn't remember a time they had felt safe enough to do that.

Martin’s eyes widened. He pushed his glasses up, trying to find the words to respond. He glanced down at Jon’s hand, then his, and back up at Jon. He ended up just nodding, not even daring to speak, and came a little closer.

The two awkwardly shifted their fingers in between each other's and laid their palms against one another.

Somehow, even though Jon’s was boney and frail and Martin’s was big and clunky, their hands seemed to fit together perfectly. The simple action was so satisfying that all the awkwardness of the situation seemed to melt away. They were truly enjoying each other’s company now.

They continued to sit together in silence, and Jon couldn't feel happier. In that moment, they had forgotten about what was ailing them. It was just them and Martin now. No more worries about sickness, work, or boundaries. Just peace and quiet.

In that moment, there was nothing wrong anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading!! im not new to writing but i am to publishing my stuff (this is only my 2nd work on here), so any feedback is appreciated! ik its mostly just me projecting onto fictional characters but i really do try my best to make it well written


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